


No Goodbyes

by Dansnotavampire



Series: The Kepcobi Dua Lipa fic anthology [1]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Confessions, Implied Sexual Content, Its only implied but its there, Kepler doesn't know what feelings are but he has them, Last Day On Earth, Last Kiss, M/M, Sad Ending, Song Lyrics, Songfic, They don't know what they're doing, Trans Male Character, god this made me sad, trans Jacobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 10:43:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12455940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dansnotavampire/pseuds/Dansnotavampire
Summary: A songfic written for Dua Lipa's no goodbyes. Also: Cutter uses knives, Kepler has one feeling and it's for Jacobi, I'm sad.Allso I wrote this in 12 hours on the plane back from japan to be indulgent excuse that it's an ooc unedited mess.





	No Goodbyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [colonelkepler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonelkepler/gifts).



> A songfic written for Dua Lipa's no goodbyes. Also: Cutter uses knives, Kepler has one feeling and it's for Jacobi, I'm sad.
> 
> Allso I wrote this in 12 hours on the plane back from japan to be indulgent excuse that it's an ooc unedited mess.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be the last day.

However things things turned out, the remaining crews of the Hephaestus and the Urania would not be orbiting Wolf 359 anymore. Maybe, if things turned out well, Warren Kepler, and Daniel Jacobi, and Douglas Eiffel, and Renée Minkowski, and Isabel Lovelace would be going home.

They'd be fugitives, of course, but they'd be home. (Or as close to home as they could be. Goddard futuristics had stolen that from them as well.)

Or maybe, tomorrow they would be merely dust, drifting through an unforgiving void. Remnants of people, of lives. Dead at the hands of a man playing God.

Jacobi twisted a length of copper wire around his finger as he watched Kepler and Lovelace go over the plans for tomorrow; Kepler's knowledge of Cutter and Goddard Futuristics and Lovelace's practical experience making them almost the perfect team for the job. (And they'd only almost hit eachother twice in the past few hours. Minkowski would be proud.)

Still, even with two of Goddard's best military minds on the job, there was no guarantee that their plans would work, no guarantee that they would make it home.

No guarantee that, even if they made it home, even if they survived together, that the story of Daniel Jacobi and Warren Kepler would have a happy ending.

Still. Jacobi could hope.

_Maybe one day I can see you_

_We can smile and wave_

_And it'll be okay_

Because if they survived, they would be free from Goddard, free from their ranks, free from the constant expectation to spill more blood on their hands.

Free to be themselves.

_Maybe one day it'll be cool_

_We could just be friends_

_Without the complications that it brings_

_When we start saying things_

Even so, being free from the clutches of Goddard futuristics didn't mean that they'd be free from what they'd done whilst working there. Just because no more blood was being poured onto their hands didn't mean any of the stains were being washed off. It didn't mean that their records were being cleaned. It didn't mean that the mission on the Hephaestus never happened.

_Yeah, I hurt you, and you hurt me_

"Frankly, Mister Jacobi, I don't care if you're you or not, as long as you get the job done."

_Yeah, we did some things that we can never take back_

"Shoot Colonel Kepler dead where he stands."

_And we tried hard just to fix it_

_But we broke it more_

They'd apologised, of course. And Kepler had still defended him to Cutter, despite...

Well. Despite everything.

But it didn't help. Their apologies turned to arguments, blame upon blame upon blame. Jacobi was just an asset, (which still stung, even though he knew it wasn't true) Kepler was just an ass who didn't know how to feel anything anymore, even for people who'd been his colleagues, his _friends_ for years.

Even for people who'd been more than that.

_And so I guess some things are not meant to last_

Jacobi shook himself out of his reverie, and turned back to his explosives. Destruction, he found, was a good way to stop caring.

He worked for a few hours more, the repeated action of linking wires and timers and batteries soothing his frayed nerves. Lovelace had left, and Kepler was now just... sat there, staring out of the windows at Wolf 359, the blue glow of the star washing over his face, defining the shadows of his cheekbones, the hollow of his neck, the spot behind his ear that made him moan like a millionaire in a whorehouse.

To put it simply, he looked beautiful. Dangerous, powerful, and oh so beautiful.

Jacobi set down his tools, and walked over to stand beside him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Kepler beat him to it.

"Something wrong, Mister Jacobi?" His tone was cool, but it was the kind of artificial calm

that one only achieves when trying to hide their true feelings.

"No," said Jacobi, choosing not to press further, knowing that nothing good would come from it, "I just-" Kepler cut him off.

"You just wanted to apologise, _again_ for a stupid decision that made no difference in the end anyway. I understand."

"No, Kepler - _Warren_ \- I didn't just want to apologise. I wanted to _talk_."

Kepler visibly twitched, surprise momentarily crossing his face before he regained his composure. "What about?" His face was guarded, but the slight droop at the corners of his mouth gave away... something. Vulnerability, maybe.

Colonel Warren J. Kepler was vulnerable, all because of the words of Daniel Jacobi.

Jacobi inhaled. "Tomorrow. Tomorrow might be the last day that we're alive, and tonight might be the last night that I have, and maybe, just maybe, I want to spend it in your arms again." Jacobi paused, and slid his hands into his pockets, looking down dejectedly. "Perhaps I just want to remember what it was like when you still loved me." There it was. All cards on the table, bleeding heart on his sleeve, his very soul open like a book.

Kepler inhaled, and Jacobi flinched, shutting his eyes as if expecting a blow.

"Jacobi."

He hesitated, some of the tension leaving his muscles, but his eyes staying shut.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, gentle, as if sudden movement might shatter him like glass.

"Daniel." said Kepler, his voice soft in Jacobi's ears.

Jacobi opened his eyes, and Kepler was there, his other hand - or what was left of it - hovering uncertainly at his side, his face open, vulnerable, and, despite the stress, the lack of sleep, the years showing around his eyes, he was the most beautiful thing Jacobi had ever seen.

"Daniel," he said, again soft, again gentle, his hand sliding down into one of Jacobi's own, "I don't actually think that I stopped."

Jacobi paused, thinking, then snatched his hands away, shouting, "I tried to have you _killed,_ Warren! Why on earth would you still care about me?"

Kepler's eyes widened a fraction, and he jolted backwards, inhaling sharply through his nose. An awkward silence settled over the two of them, the air crisp with mistakes, missed nights, affections not spoken and accusations not meant, before Kepler broke it.

"I told her to shoot you, you know? Minkowski. When you asked her to kill me. If it makes you feel better, I told her to shoot you so you didn't kill us all. Even if it doesn't make you feel better, I still did it."

"Oh."

Kepler walked round to stand at Jacobi's side, so that the hand he lost in the contact event was - or at least would've been - facing Jacobi.

"It's like you said, Daniel. Tomorrow, we might be dead, and if we are, then I don't want to have spent my last night alive without something I know I could have if it weren't for petty things such as you and your goddamn belief that you have to deserve things in order to recieve them. Men like you and I, Daniel, don't deserve anything. We may as well make the most of what we're offered."

"So what you're saying is..."

"What I'm saying, Daniel, is that yes, I still care for you, yes, I am very much interested in spending what may be my last night alive with you, and yes, if, somehow, we have lives after this horrific mess, I would be very happy to spend mine with you."

"I didn't ask about after... this."

_Is it too much to ask_

_For tonight_

_Let's love like there's no goodbyes_

"You didn't need to."

_Just for tonight_

_Pretend that it's all alright_

Jacobi reached his hand across, and wrapped his fingers around Kepler's wrist, resting his head on Kepler's (firm, warm, muscular) shoulder.

"You know it would be easier to hold my other hand, right?" Kepler said softly enough that, even if they hadn't been alone, no one else would've heard.

Jacobi let out a small laugh. "Is that why you stood that side of me, then?"

Kepler smirked, and turned Jacobi into his chest, lifting his other hand to the sharp curve of his jaw. "Or maybe," he said, soft, a mischevious smirk on his face, "It was so I could do this."

And he kissed him, slowly, sensuously, with lips like that felt like silk and somehow, even in the middle of space, tasted like honey and whiskey and _home_

Jacobi lifted both his hands and cupped Kepler's jaw, kissing him back, Kepler's hand sliding from his jaw to the slight curve of his waist, what was left of his other settling in the small of Jacobi's back.

_Why don't we hold each other_

_Use each other, whisper pretty lies_

_Just for tonight_

_Let's love like there's no goodbyes_

Ten minutes later, and they were in Kepler's room, Jacobi's back pressed against the door, Kepler pressing soft kisses into the side of Jacobi's neck, across his collarbones, along the faint pair of surgical scars on his chest.

"You're beautiful." he muttered into Jacobi's skin as he worked the buttons of his shirt undone with his fingers, speaking so softly that he didn't even know if the words had actually come out. "Daniel, you are possibly the most beautiful person I have ever seen."

_In a dark room_

_We don't have to_

_See the light of truth_

_Between me and you_

He sucked a dark mark into the skin at the base of Jacobi's neck, gently turning him and guiding him backwards onto the bed. Kepler's traced his fingers lightly down Jacobi's sides, relishing in the flush of his skin, the short, panting breaths escaping his bitten red lips.

_We can stay blind In the meantime_

_Let our bodies say_

_What we can never seem to communicate_

_Even though it's too late_

The next hours passed in a heady, blissful blur of biting kisses, hot skin against hot skin, and a lingering scent of honey and whiskey.

Kepler's bare chest and face were flushed, Jacobi's skin was littered with dark bruises, Kepler's previously neat hair now a tangled, sweaty mess. Jacobi laid his head down on Kepler's chest, writing abstract symbols and words on his skin with his fingers.

_For tonight_

_Let's love like there's no goodbyes_

"When we get back," Jacobi spoke softly, as if afraid of shattering this safe golden glow surrounding them, "where will you go?"

_Just for tonight_

_Pretend that it's all alright_

"I don't know. I'll travel, maybe. Where d'you wanna go?"

Jacobi looked at the way the soft light lit Kepler's face, his skin glowing golden, his warm brown eyes like hot embers, and in that moment, all he could think was that he wanted to be wherever Warren Kepler ended up.

"I don't know." he said, quiet and contemplative. "Maybe I'll just travel too. I've always wanted to see Paris."

_Why don't we hold each other_

_Use each other, whisper pretty lies_

_Just for tonight_

_Let's love like there's no goodbyes_

Kepler didn't miss the second meaning of Jacobi's statement, the quiet 'I'll follow you wherever, darling' in his words.

He could almost picture himself doing the same. Going wherever Jacobi asked him to, staying up till god knows when talking, drinking, or maybe just existing.

It terrified him. And it terrified him even more that if they died tomorrow, that though, that wish, that desire, would be wasted. Dead. Gone.

_Maybe one day I'll see you_

_Just smile and wave and be okay_

Jacobi tucked his arm around Kepler's chest, settling his head in the crook of his neck. He felt Kepler whisper something into his hair, something that felt a lot like an 'I love you'.

(Not that Jacobi would ever hope for something like that.)

_For tonight_

_Let's love like there's no goodbyes_

_For tonight_

_Pretend that it's all alright_

He still whispered "I think I do too," into the soft skin of Kepler's neck, though.

_Why don't we hold each other_

_Use each other, whisper pretty lies_

_Just for tonight_

_Let's love like there's no goodbyes_

And come morning, he still woke up at Hera's quiet alarm, and he still pressed a soft, strawberry scented kiss to Kepler's sleeping face, and he still went to prime his explosives.

And he still leapt in front of the knife meant for Kepler's heart, and he still bled out on a shuttle heading back to earth in the wake of an explosion that left Marcus Cutter and Rachel Young (or at least the things wearing those names) dead.

And the last words spoken on that shuttle were a choked, broken, "I love you," and... well.

Whatever Kepler's reply was, Jacobi wasn't around to hear it.


End file.
